Colour tattoo of a grey tabby cat wearing a golden jewelled crown, with small stars and a pink backdrop, on a limb.

Crowned cartoon cat with stars

Neo-trad · Other · Mixed · Photo

A cartoon grey tabby cat sits upright in a golden crown set with red and green jewels, with small star shapes scattered around its head and body. The cat is outlined in bold black linework, with grey striped shading on its body and tail and warm brown eyes. A soft pink wash sits behind the cat, and the design is centred on the limb in a photo taken at a slight angle.

Neo-trad Other Cat Tabby cat Crown Star Jewel

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The crown was too big for you, and that was the first thing the stable boy noticed when he came in at dawn and found you sitting on the granary's bronze throne, licking one grey paw like a magistrate after a long case. Nobody had told you that King Hadrun had died in the night of a bad oyster. Nobody had told you anything, which suited you well enough.

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By noon the court had gathered in the courtyard to argue about it. The vizier wanted the priests sent for. The cook wanted a fish, and so did you, and you made this clear by sitting on the tax rolls. The vizier cited precedent, a sacred ibis and a goose that had once been appointed to the council. You hooked your claws into his sleeve and purred until he stopped talking. Above the roofs the stars wheeled slowly over the palace, and you watched them as if they owed you an explanation.

The priests came, made their offerings of milk and incense, and declared that the gods had chosen you with a fine sense of humour. That was enough for the court. The vizier wrote it down, then wrote a second note about the cook's wages, and the palace settled into a new routine: fish at the third bell, a warm lap at the fourth, and a dish of cream set beside the throne each evening by a girl who had been told to mind your tail.

Years later, when the stable boy was old and the bronze throne had been melted down for spearheads, a travelling scribe asked why the old records named a cat as the last true ruler of the valley. You scratched behind one ear and did not answer. The stars, which had watched the whole affair, kept their opinion to themselves.